The Shadow of the Day
by Collegekid2006
Summary: Sometimes, life doesn't go according to plan. Sometimes, what you love most is taken away. And sometimes, what should be the happiest day of your life can turn into a nightmare.
1. Chapter 1

The moment Henry walked into the hospital waiting room and saw Shawn sitting alone in the corner, his face pale as he stared vacantly down at the carpet in front of him, he knew.

He didn't know everything, of course…how could he?...but he knew enough.

He crossed the tiled floor quickly, his urgent steps echoing hollowly off the sterile walls.

For a moment, he stood over his son, who didn't even look up. His eyes were empty and distant, as if he couldn't see anything in front of him.

Finally, Henry had to say something.

"Shawn."

Shawn looked up at him, blinking as if trying to awaken from a dream. A shudder ran through his entire body as he struggled to get out a single syllable.

"Dad…"

Henry sat down next to him, already hearing everything in that one word.

"What the hell happened?" he asked quietly.

Shawn shook his head slowly.

Uncomprehendingly.

"I don't know," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I don't know…she's gone…"

Henry closed his eyes, every ounce of oxygen escaping his body as if he had just been hit in the chest and the head simultaneously. "She's gone?"

"Yeah…" Shawn nodded this time, stiffening. "She's gone, Dad. I don't know what happened…it all happened so fast…"

Henry forced himself to open his eyes again, knowing he couldn't have the wind knocked out of him.

Not now.

"The kid…?" he mumbled, groaning with the effort to even breathe.

For a long moment, Shawn didn't answer.

He couldn't.

"He's alive," he said finally, if you could define the squeak of escaping breath as speaking. "That's all I know. It happened so fast…the chord was wrapped around his neck, so they had to do an emergency c-section…she was bleeding…I don't know…" His voice reached a trembling crescendo and he continued to shake his head almost furiously. "She was bleeding, Dad…they couldn't stop it…they wouldn't let me near her…she kept asking if he was okay, but they wouldn't tell her anything."

He stopped suddenly, taking a long, shaky breath. All the blood had drained from his face now.

"They brought him to the NICU, but I can't see him yet. I don't know if…"

Henry nodded as Shawn stopped again, for once not forcing his son to continue.

For once, not demanding a full explanation.

"He'll be okay," Henry told him softly.

Shawn's hands were starting to tremble as he looked down at the floor again, still shaking his head. "I don't know."

"He will." Henry insisted.

Shawn smiled palely as he looked back up at his father. "What the hell am I going to do if he is?" he asked quietly. "I can't change a diaper."

"What?"

"Those classes we went to…" Shawn pressed on, his voice dropping again. "I could never change the stupid diapers…Jules could. But she couldn't heat the bottle right. She always forgot about it and let it get too hot. I could do the bottle every time…but I can't do the diapers, Dad. I need her to change the damn diapers."

Henry sighed, resting his hand on Shawn's shoulder.

"You can change a diaper, Kid."


	2. Chapter 2

Shawn stood at the glass, staring numbly at the tiny, wrinkled red bundle in front of him.

The baby stared back at him through the nursery window, and even though every ounce of knowledge he had on the subject told him the kid couldn't really see him from this distance, that everything would be blurry and out of focus for him, Shawn knew it wasn't true.

The kid was looking right at him.

He tried to smile at his son, tried to think of something to say to him…but nothing came.

Shawn looked over as Gus sidled up silently beside him.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

"Is that him?" Gus asked finally, nodding at the baby.

"Yeah," Shawn nodded. "That's him."

"He looks like you," Gus said quietly.

"I know," Shawn smiled palely, jamming his hands into his pockets, gazing down at his son with pained, sorrowful eyes. "I know he does."

"Poor kid," Gus added with a small grin, gently nudging his friend with his elbow. "He'll probably end up with your nose, too."

"Yeah," Shawn laughed, pulling one hand out of his pocket and running it tentatively through his hair. "Poor kid. At least he'll get my hair…"

Gus laughed, and for another moment they just looked down at the infant, who was still looking up at them, his already sharp eyes clearly seeing everything.

Shawn didn't care what the books said, his kid could see him.

"I'm sorry, Shawn." Gus said after a long silence. "I should've been here. I'm sorry."

Shawn shrugged. "I should've called you. I meant to when she went into labor, when we got here... It just happened so fast…the cord…"

"I know," Gus said quietly. "Your dad told me when he called. Is he--"

"He's fine." Shawn told him. "The doctor said he can come home in a few days."

Gus nodded. "Good."

"That's all she wanted, Gus," Shawn murmured. "That's all she was thinking about…whether he was okay. Well, he's okay…and she's gone."

"Shawn--"

Shawn's eyes were distant again, not really seeing anything. He didn't even seem fully aware he was speaking out loud and not himself. "She's gone, Gus…and I don't give a damn that he's okay."

Gus looked up at his friend, surprised. "Shawn! You don't mean that!"

Shawn nodded firmly, his jaw setting. "I'm trying, Gus," he said quietly. "I know he's my son…and I know I love him…but I don't feel anything. I'm looking at him, and I know he sees me. I know he does. And I know he needs me…but I don't care. I can't care." He paused, taking a long, slow breath. He blinked slowly, gently placing his palm on the glass before continuing. "I haven't even held him yet. The doctor told me an hour ago I could hold him if I wanted to. I've just been standing here ever since, trying to force myself to do it. But I can't go in there."

Gus looked down at the floor, at a loss for what to say. "It's only been a few hours, Shawn." he said finally. "Give it time. You'll care."

"I just want her back, Gus. I need her."

"I know."

"What the hell am I going to do?" Shawn asked, blinking as he turned his head to look at his best friend.

"For starters…" Gus told him, giving his a slight push towards the nursery door. "You're going to get your butt in there and hold your kid."

Shawn dug his heel in, resisting at first.

"Why?" he demanded.

"Are you kidding?" Gus snorted, giving him another push. "Dude…look at him! He looks just like you, but he has her eyes."


	3. Chapter 3

"It's just for a while, Dad." Shawn mumbled, jumping out of his father's truck and slamming the door behind him. "I can't afford the rent without Jules, and I'm going to need all our savings just to get by for a while. It's not like I can take on any new cases right now with…" He stopped short of saying his son's name, his unfinished thoughts floating off into the air like vapor.

"I know," Henry shrugged, shutting his own door and walking around to the back of the truck. "It's not a big deal, Shawn. When are you bringing him home?"

"Tomorrow," Shawn mumbled as they both reached into the flatbed and lifted the crib out. Henry took the lead as they carried it into the house and maneuvered it up the stairs and into Shawn's old room. As soon as they were in, Shawn suddenly dropped his end without any warning. It banged loudly against the hardwood floor, making Henry drop his end in surprise.

"Damn it, Shawn!" he growled, spinning around. "Be careful! You're going to scratch up my floors doing that!"

"I don't care about your damn floor!" Shawn shot back, his jaw clenching angrily. His eyes narrowed, challenging his father to push him just a little further.

Henry blinked, his nostrils slowly flaring as he exhaled deeply. "Just be more careful," he mumbled, walking past his still-glaring son back into the hallway. He got to the top of the stairs before Shawn followed him.

"I didn't scratch your damn floor!" he called after his father, his voice suddenly quiet and ice cold.

Henry turned around slowly. "I don't care about the damn floor, Kid."

"Yes, you do!" Shawn shouted, waving an angry finger in Henry's face. "You're thinking about it right now! The second my back is turned, you're going to go back in there and examine your damn floor to make sure I didn't mess it up!"

"Shawn--"

"If your damn floor is scratched up," Shawn growled, not even letting his father finish his thought. "It's not _my _damn fault!"

"I didn't say--"

"It's not my damn fault!" Shawn shouted again, punching the wall. His fist left an indentation the size of a baseball in the plaster as he slowly pulled it back, staring at his red knuckles in silent, unblinking fury.

Henry's jaw clenched when he saw the dent. He glared at Shawn for a long moment, then finally shook his head quietly. "No one said it's your fault, Kid. No one blames you."

Shawn collapsed on the top of the stairs, resting his head in hands. "_I _blame me, Dad."

"Then knock it off. It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah. It was."

"Shawn." Henry growled softly, taking a seat next to his son. "Shut up for one minute and listen to me."

Shawn looked up, clearly surprised by his father's suddenly gruff tone. "What?"

"You heard me," Henry snapped back, a little louder this time, his eyes narrowing again. "Just shut up and listen for one damn second."

Shawn opened his mouth to argue, but before he could Henry pressed on.

"It wasn't your fault, Kid," he said firmly. "None of it. It just happened. There was nothing you could have done to stop it. You couldn't have known. It's wrong and it sucks and it shouldn't have happened, but it did. So stop blaming yourself for something you have no control over and start dealing with it."

He stood back up, marching down three stairs before he was stopped dead in his tracks by Shawn's voice.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Shawn shouted at him, his ears burning with rage. "I just lost my wife, and you want me to just get over it like nothing ever happened?"

Henry spun back around, this time not holding back his own shouting. "That's not what I said, Shawn, and you damn well know it!" he snapped. "I didn't say get over it! I said to deal with it! I said to stop blaming yourself and start dealing with reality!"

"I don't _want_ to deal with reality!"

"Well, that's tough, Kid," Henry snorted, slowly climbing back up the stairs and sitting next to Shawn again. "Because you have to. You don't have a choice."

Shawn groaned, resting his head against the wall.

"I know."

"The reality is that you have a son now, Shawn," Henry continued. "And even though it's hard and all you want to do is fall apart right now, you can't because you have to take care of him. I don't know what the hell you want from me, but--"

"You know damn well what I want!" Shawn snapped, his fists clenching again. "You know damn well!"

Henry nodded, sighing heavily. "I can't tell you it'll all be all right, Kid." he said quietly. "Because it won't this time. Not right away, at least. I can't tell you that you'll wake up tomorrow and you won't feel like your guts have been ripped out and your head is on fire anymore. Because you will. For a long time."

Shawn looked up at Henry again, his breathing coming in short, desperate bursts.

"I can't tell you that the next few years are going to be easy, either," Henry continued, leaning his back against the wall as he turned to face his son directly. "Because they will, Shawn. The next few years are going to be the hardest of your life. I'm sorry, Kid, but that's reality. You're going to have to force yourself to get up every day and face your son when all you're going to want to do is give up. But you can't give up, Shawn. You're going to have to find some way to not give up. Because if you fight through, if you deal with reality, it _will_ get better eventually, Kid. It'll never be perfect. It'll never be you and Juliet the way it should have been…but it'll get better. Easier. But you'll have to fight for better every single day. You'll have to want better, or you'll never get it."

Shawn buried his head in his hands. "I can't do that, Dad."

"Yeah, Shawn. You can," Henry insisted standing up and walking back down the stairs. "You can because you won't be doing it alone." 


	4. Chapter 4

Shawn groaned as the peaceful night was once again shattered by the screaming baby in the crib across the room.

He rolled over and checked the clock.

3 AM.

Two hours on the dot.

"Come on, Will," he moaned, pulling the pillow over his head as his son continued to scream. "I'm new at this! Cut me some slack!"

But, of course, his pleas were ignored by the screaming infant. Finally, Shawn sighed and pushed the covers aside, slowly crossing the room weary step by weary step until he was standing over the crib.

"Don't think I'm going to forget about this when you want me to pay for college," he muttered with a yawn, gently reaching into the crib and placing his palm against his son's warm, pudgy tummy.

The moment his father's hand touched him, Will stopped crying. He blinked away the tears, staring up at Shawn with wide, red eyes.

Shawn groaned as he realized what he had just said. "Great," he grumped, rolling his eyes. "It's only been one day, Kid, and you already have me sounding like _my _dad…thanks for that."

Will gurgled happily as Shawn continued to run his fingers over the soft, furry Elmo onesie Juliet had picked out during one of her endless baby shopping sprees.

"You can never have too many onesies," she had assured him when the count had reached well over twenty.

Will was smiling up at him now, his nose scrunching up in the same way Juliet's used to when she laughed. Shawn smiled sadly back down at him, his heart beginning to beat just a little faster as he realized for the first time that Gus was right.

Will had her eyes.

He gently scooped his son up, holding him close against his chest as he swayed slowly back and forth. He walked slowly back to the bed, sitting down on the mattress and propping himself up against the wall.

"We're gonna make it, Kid," he murmured softly, resting his chin against the top of Will's head. "I'm not going to lie to you…Mom was better at this than I am. But I'll do the best I can."

He paused, sighing. "Sorry about Elmo, by the way," he continued, running his finger over Will's thin hair. "I fought for the dinosaur onesie…dinosaurs are cooler than Elmo, right? Did I tell you I found a real dinosaur once…?"

Will cooed as he slowly drifted off to sleep again, his ear pressed against Shawn's rhythmic heartbeat.


	5. Chapter 5

He put it off for as long as he could.

Three whole weeks.

But, eventually, Shawn knew he couldn't put it off any longer.

He had to get her stuff from the precinct. Chief Vick had already called him twice, offering to have someone collect it and bring it to him if he wanted, but he told her no.

He had to do it himself.

Just not right away.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Gus asked when he came over for lunch one afternoon and Shawn asked to borrow the Echo.

"No," Shawn shook his head firmly as he took the keys from his friend, leaving his lunch untouched on the kitchen counter. "I'll be fine, Gus. It's no big deal. I'm just picking up a box."

Even as he spoke the words, he knew they weren't true.

More importantly, he knew Gus knew.

But neither of them acknowledged the lie.

"I'll go," Gus told him after a long moment of silence. "Really. I don't mind."

"No," Shawn told him again, glancing out into the living room. "I'll do it, Gus. Can you just watch Will for me? I think my dad forgot that having a baby around means diapers and 2 AM crying. I think he needs a break. I don't know if he's even here…"

"Sure," Gus shrugged, looking down at the car seat sitting on the kitchen floor, where Will was sleeping peacefully. "I'll watch him."

"Thanks," Shawn mumbled, already heading out the door. "Don't let him scare you," he added over his shoulder as an after-thought.

"I'm not scared of your dad, Shawn," Gus rolled his eyes.

Shawn turned back around at the door, grinning manically. "I meant Will," he clarified cryptically, then was gone.

"What does _that_ mean?" Gus called after him, but it was too late.

He was alone…with a baby.

He looked down at the tiny bundle again, suddenly realizing with horror that this was Shawn's son…

This was Shawn…in actual infant form and not just adult-infant form...

There were no rules anymore.

"Oh, God!" he groaned, his eyes widening as Will started to slowly wake-up. "What did I get myself into?"

* * *

Shawn stood on the steps of the precinct for a good fifteen minutes before finally walking inside.

He hadn't been inside since a week before Juliet's death, over a month ago now.

Had it really been that long…?

He sighed and looked around at the familiar walls and people as he finally forced himself to go inside. He knew most of them had been at the wake…as he looked around, he could remember seeing the faces there…but he couldn't remember talking to any of them.

For once in his life, he couldn't remember a damn thing about that day.

For a minute, he stood frozen in the center of the station, gazing around at his surroundings as if he couldn't quite figure out where he was.

"Mr. Spencer," a voice broke through the tidal wave of thoughts rushing over him. He blinked and looked up as Chief Vick walked up to him, smiling gently.

"Hey, Chief," Shawn returned the greeting, attempting to grin back in the same effortless, impish way he always did…but he could tell it fell flat.

It just wasn't the same.

"You didn't bring him with you," the Chief continued, her voice accusing him lightly.

"Who?" Shawn mumbled, looking confused. "Gus?"

"No," she laughed. "Will."

"Oh," Shawn laughed, too, this time the grin coming more naturally. "Right. He's at home with Uncle Gus." He glanced down at his watch, his grin broadening. "And, if I timed it right, he should be needing a new diaper right about now."

"Then you've already learned the most important lesson of parenting," Vick nodded in approval. "Timing the diapers so someone else has to change them."

They smiled at each other in mutual understanding, the conversation stopping as they suddenly realized they had nothing else to talk about. Shawn glanced over at Juliet's desk, which was only a few feet away. There was a stack of files on it, sitting on top of which was a yellow pencil. Shawn smiled when he saw the bite marks in the wood.

In his mind, he could see her as clear as day…sitting at the desk, staring blankly off into space and absently chewing her pencil as she tried to force herself to do paperwork, resigned to her fate of desk duty until the baby finally came…

"I can't believe they benched me!" she had complained bitterly when the Chief had reassigned her. "Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I can't run-down a perp!"

"Uh…actually, Jules," he had told her, running his fingers gently through her hair. "It does."

She had groaned and rolled her eyes, as if no conceivable fate could be worse than sitting behind a desk for eight hours a day.

He could still hear that piteous, defeated groan echoing off the walls of his mind as he stared blankly at her empty chair, trying to forget.

"It's just for now," he had promised. "Once the baby comes, you can go back to slide-tackling the bad guys. Once the baby comes…"

He blinked, forcing the memories out of his head.

"You don't have to do it today, Mr. Spencer," the Chief told him, watching his faraway eyes. "I told you. You don't have to do it at all. I can have someone--"

"No," Shawn shook his head, taking a deep breath. "It's okay. I can do it."

Vick nodded understandingly. "I'll get you a box. There's one in my office you can use."

Shawn didn't respond as she walked away. He picked up the pencil and put it absently behind his ear.

The only other things on her desk besides the files were two small picture frames. He glanced over at them for no real reason as he had seen both pictures a thousand times before. The first was of the two of them on the beach in Antigua on their honeymoon. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt he had bought as a joke that rivaled any of his father's for sheer hideousness, and she was wearing a pink tank top and her sunglasses, which were supposed to be hiding the black eye she'd gotten in an unfortunate incident getting off the plane in which, as per the Flight Attendant's warning, the luggage had actually shifted during the flight.

He smiled palely at the memory, looking at the second picture next. It was the first sonogram of Will. Shawn squinted at it, still unable to see anything even remotely resembling a baby in it.

Of course, Jules had always insisted that she could see him…

"Of course I can see the baby!" she'd snorted stubbornly, pointing adamantly at it. "He's right there!"

Shawn hadn't bothered to tell her that every time she pointed at the baby, she pointed to a different spot on the sonogram…

Why spoil it?

He sighed and picked up both picture frames, staring down at them blankly. He could feel the hollow pit in the center of his stomach slowly coming back as he tried to forget…tried to banish the memories from his mind.

Vick came back a few minutes later. He was still staring at the pictures as she dropped the box on the desk.

"You don't have to do it today, Mr. Spencer," she told him again.

Shawn shrugged numbly, throwing the pictures in first.

He wanted them at the bottom. He wanted to cover them with anything he could find so he'd never have to see them again except in his own mind every time he closed his eyes.

"Yeah," he mumbled, opening her center drawer. "I do."


	6. Chapter 6

Once he got started, it only took Shawn about fifteen minutes to get everything in Juliet's desk into the box.

By the time he was finished, the picture frames were buried so far beneath the papers, half-empty tubes of Chapstick, and old sandwich wrappers that he barely remembered they were even there.

Of course, he _did_ remember them…in fact, he remembered every damn detail of each picture every instant he wasn't actively forcing himself to forget…

But at least now, he could force himself to forget at least some of the time.

He sighed and looked down at the now completely empty desk in front of him, wondering vaguely how it was possible that the most amazing, dynamic woman he had ever known could somehow have her entire life condensed into one brown cardboard box.

It just wasn't fair.

He sighed and dumped the last item from her drawers into the box; a simple, black stapler. As he slowly turned around, ready to walk out of the precinct, he almost bumped into Lassiter, who was just arriving back at his desk.

"Spencer!" he growled, sidestepping the psychic just in time. "Watch where you're going!"

"Sorry," Shawn mumbled, his head down as he tried to push past the detective. He stopped about three steps away when Lassiter called after him.

"That's my stapler, Spencer."

Shawn turned back around slowly, staring at him with a look of almost hurt bewilderment. "What?"

Lassiter stepped towards him, gesturing at the stapler that was sticking out of the box. "That's my stapler," he repeated, reaching for it.

Shawn pulled the box away, suddenly protective of each and every item in it. "It was in Jules' desk," he told him, honestly not even sure why he was bothering to fight about a stapler he couldn't care less about…a stapler he could replace for five bucks at any Wal-Mart…

"I know," Lassiter growled, his eyes narrowing in determination. "Your wife was a damn stapler thief, Spencer!"

Shawn blinked in surprise as he lowered the box, actually laughing at the accusation. "Really?" he snorted, cocking an eyebrow at Lassiter. "She was a stapler thief? What? Was she going to sell it on the black market or something?..._Is_ there a black market for staplers? Because she also had paper clips in her desk…maybe she was secretly a fence for stolen office supplies!"

Lassiter glared at him for a moment, clearly not amused by the theory, but then his face broke out into the smallest of possible grins. "Those were my paper clips, too," he muttered, trying to sound resentful. "She always stole my paper clips."

"Well, how else was she going to keep the black market saturated?" Shawn demanded, laughing.

It felt good to laugh…_really_ laugh…

Even if it hurt like hell.

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Spencer."

Shawn reached into the box and pulled the stapler out, tossing it to the detective. "You can have it if you want it, Lassie," he shrugged. "I don't care. Believe it or not, I don't fill out a whole lot of paper work at home that requires stapling."

Lassiter caught it, staring down at it silently for a moment, a look passing over his face that Shawn couldn't quite identify…something resembling briefly-exposed pain of some kind.

"It's my stapler," he said again, slightly quieter this time. "She stole it, Spencer. The first day she was here…she asked me if she could borrow it to staple an arrest report, and I never got it back."

"Why didn't you just ask for it?" Shawn asked.

Lassiter shrugged, placing the stapler on his desk. "She was my partner, Spencer…and she scared the hell out of me."


	7. Chapter 7

Henry could hear the ear-piercing screams from the driveway as he shut the door of his truck behind him and slowly started up to the house.

When he finally reached the kitchen, where his grandson was still sitting in his infant car seat on the floor, his face red and his tiny fists curled up into tight, angry balls as he howled at the top of his lungs. Gus was scurrying around the kitchen desperately. His jacket had been tossed over a chair in the corner and his tie was lying in the middle of the floor, next to a half-empty bottle of formula, five scattered diapers, and a dozen or so plush stuffed animals.

"Gus!" Henry growled as he entered the kitchen, sizing the situation up in four seconds flat. "What the hell are you doing to my grandson?"

Gus looked up at him, his wide, frantic eyes pleading for relief. "Nothing! Shawn had to go to the station for a while, so I said I'd watch Will," he explained, his voice cracking as he reached the end of his rope. "That was an hour ago, and the kid hasn't stopped screaming! I tried to feed him, I changed his damn diaper twice…I don't know what he wants!"

Henry opened his mouth to respond, but Gus was already running out the door. "Good luck!" he called over his shoulder.

He didn't even slow down when he reached the driveway and suddenly realized that Shawn still had his Echo.

He just kept right on running.

Henry rolled his eyes, watching him from the kitchen window, and then walked over to the car seat and looked down at Will. "That doesn't work with me, Kid," he told him firmly over the loud tears, his eyes locking with the infant's as he crossed his arms over his chest. "It didn't work when your dad tried it, either."

Will stopped crying, gazing up at his grandfather almost appraisingly. He sniffed, his tiny lip trembling as he seemed to briefly consider screaming again.

"Don't even try it," Henry warned, turning away just long enough to grab the bottle off the floor. He rinsed it off in the sink and knelt next to the car seat, unbuckling Will and gently lifting him out.

Will's sharp eyes never left him. They watched every move Henry made, almost as if analyzing him.

Henry carried him into the living room and sat down on the couch, gently propping the baby in the crook of his arm. Will's eyes grew wide as he saw the bottle now, all tears completely banished from his face, though a few lingering drops still clung to his pudgy cheeks. He cooed happily as he settled into Henry's arm, drinking greedily.

"You were just being a pain in the ass, weren't you?" Henry murmured gently, watching Will's tiny fingers try to curl around the bottle. "Your dad used to do the same thing to me…" He leaned back, resting his head against the wall behind him. "He always had to have attention…" he continued, his voice hushed and almost soothing.

Will stopped sucking the bottle for a moment, blinking up at his grandfather, almost curiously.

"What?" Henry asked, looking down at him again. "It's the truth. If you put that kid down for two seconds he'd scream his head off…every damn time."

Will gurgled and started drinking again, his wide eyes still watching every move Henry made.

Henry smiled despite himself. "Not much has changed, eh, Kid?" he murmured, rolling his eyes. 'Of course, your mom could handle him…keep him grounded…keep him alive…"

He paused for a second, regarding the infant staring back up at him. "You didn't get to meet her," he continued after a long moment of somber silence. "But I sure as hell hope you get her common sense. She was smart, Kid."

Will let out a tiny burp, continuing to suck intently on the bottle as if he didn't even notice.

Henry chuckled, shaking his head. "I hope you get her common sense," he said again, quieter this time. "Because I'm telling you right now, you're not getting a damn motorcycle." 


	8. Chapter 8

Will was sleeping contentedly when Shawn came back, his head nestled in the crook of his grandfather's arm as a few stray drops of formula still clung to his lips.

"Where's Gus?" Shawn asked, looking around curiously as he entered the living room. He dropped the cardboard box he was carrying on the floor and wiped his hands off on his jeans.

"He cracked," Henry shrugged, placing the empty bottle he was holding on the coffee table as he slowly stood up, being careful not to wake the sleeping infant still curled up in his arms. "Will gave him a run for his money."

Shawn laughed, gently rubbing the top of his son's head as his father walked past him to the stairs. "'Atta boy," he murmured proudly.

Henry rolled his eyes, already half-way up the stairs. "Don't encourage him, Shawn. And don't even think about waking him up. It took me damn near an hour to get him to sleep."

Shawn laughed and went back to the couch, falling onto it in an exhausted heap. He stretched his legs out in front of him, clasping his hands at the nape of his neck, his joints popping and cracking with every movement. He closed his eyes, only opening them again when he heard his father descending the stairs.

As he entered the living room again, Henry looked at the box on the floor of the middle of the room, immediately knowing what it was.

"Shawn--" he started quietly, but Shawn cut him off with a sharp glance before he could get another word out.

"Don't say you would've done it for me, Dad," he snapped, dropping his hands by his side. "I'm so damn tired of people telling me they'll do it for me."

"Do it for you?" Henry snorted, as if the thought had never even occurred to him. "Why the hell would I do it for you? You had to do it yourself. She was _your_ wife, Kid."

"Thanks, Dad." Shawn mumbled, rolling his eyes and staring down at the box now, too. "I remember."

"I know."

Henry crossed to the kitchen, shrugging as he kicked gently at the box on his way by. "I was just going to tell you to put the damn thing away."

"Not now, Dad," Shawn murmured, closing his eyes again as he rested his head against the wall behind him. "I'll take care of it later."

Henry watched his son resting on the couch, his eyes still tightly closed as he ran his fingers lightly over his three day growth of stubble. The perpetual dark circles under his eyes had begun to fade, but they were still there.

After a minute, the now all-too-familiar sound of Will crying came from upstairs. Shawn groaned, slowly forcing himself to his feet. "Does it ever end?" he asked, glancing at his father.

Henry grinned. "The crying, or the being a father?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest in amusement.

"At this point…either," Shawn muttered.

"The crying…yeah. The being a father, no. That never stops."

Shawn sighed, nodding wearily as he reached the bottom of the staircase. He stared up them, looking contemplative as he smiled blandly to himself. "Know what's weird?" he asked, turning back to look at Henry.

"What?

"The thought of him riding a motorcycle scares the hell out of me."

"That's not weird, Kid," Henry assured him, heading into the kitchen as Shawn continued up the stairs. "That's just part of the deal."

It only took a few minutes for Shawn to quiet Will again. When he came back downstairs, Henry had disappeared. Shawn looked out the window, but the truck wasn't in the driveway. He shrugged, not thinking much of it, and turned to the box, which was still sitting in the middle of the floor.

He groaned, suddenly too tired to even think about it, much less deal with it.

He didn't want to deal with it.

He stood over it, staring down at the mostly useless junk it contained.

_If she was alive, _he thought dully _I wouldn't bother keeping any of it…_

He wasn't used to those thoughts yet…the what if's…the if only's…

He'd never be used to them, but he still knew they were true.

There was no point keeping a box of worthless junk

He picked it up and brought it out to the driveway, dumping it next to the garbage cans for the trash men to pick up the following morning. He hesitated for a moment before walking back into the house, staring down at it with look of intent concentration as he committed it to memory, then slowly spun on his heel and marched away, not looking back once.

Once inside, he went back into the living room and stretched out on the couch again, draping his arm over his eyes as he tried to sleep. After only two minutes, however, he knew it wasn't going to happen.

No matter how tired he was, he wasn't going to sleep.

He groaned and sat up again. He started to stand, not even sure where he was going, but froze halfway when his eyes fell across the fireplace mantle on the opposite wall for the first time.

After a moment of blank, silent staring, he fell back onto the couch, too stunned to even blink.

Sitting in the center of the brick ledge running across the top of the fireplace were the two pictures from the box.


	9. Chapter 9

Shawn sat on the floor, his back propped against the wall as he stared at the old, battered cardboard box. He squinted at it, the faded words scrawled on the side barely visible in the near-complete darkness of the attic.

He rested his head against the wall, opening them a moment later when the light suddenly came on, followed by heavy footsteps.

"What are you doing up here?" Gus asked, coming into the attic. "Your dad's looking for you…everyone's here for the party and he's yelling something about you getting your ass down there because it wasn't his damn idea to have a party for a one-year-old kid."

Shawn smiled palely, moving over to make room for his friend. "It wasn't mine, either," he mumbled as Gus sat down next to him. "It was the Chief's…actually, I didn't have a say in it at all. She told me when it was going to be and who was coming. She even brought the cake…"

Gus rolled his eyes and nodded, his fingers absently wiping against the hardwood floor. For a long moment, he watched Shawn's eyes, which were still fixed on the decrepit box in front of them. With the light on now, Gus could read the words on the side.

**Jules' Desk**

"Is that why you're up here?" he asked, nodding at it. "Looking through her stuff?"

Shawn shrugged limply. "It's just old junk from her desk at the station. I keep meaning to throw it out. I tried once…but I couldn't do it."

"Why would you throw it out?"

Shawn didn't respond at first. He slowly forced himself to his feet, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the rafters. "Because I want to forget, Gus," he said finally, his voice as distant and hollow as if her were shouting through a tunnel.

"Forget what?" Gus asked, standing up and brushing the dirt off his pants.

Shawn blinked slowly, taking a deep breath before finally releasing it out his nose. "It's his birthday, Gus…" he murmured. "It's my son's first birthday, and I don't want to think about it. I _can't _think about it because every time I do, all I can think about is Jules. She's supposed to be here…but she's not. For the rest of my damn life, all my son's birthday is going to mean to me is one more year without her."

Gus sighed, looking down at the floor by his feet. "It happened the same day, Shawn," he said quietly. "Of course you're going to think about it. You can't help it."

Shawn smiled again, shaking his head sadly. "But I can't spend the rest of my life hating Will's birthday. I can't spend the rest of my life in the attic."

"Then why are you up here?" Gus asked.

Shawn shrugged, glancing back at the box. "Because I also don't want to forget, Gus. I don't want to forget that it hurts…I don't want it to get easier. I don't want to go downstairs with Will and forget that she's supposed to be here."

Gus blinked in surprise. "You won't forget, Shawn."

Shawn closed his eyes wearily. "I'm already forgetting…" he murmured. "I've thought so many times that I would give anything to have her back…but not him. I couldn't give him up, Gus. Not for anything." He opened his eyes again, his jaw setting firmly. "She wouldn't want me to. And why the hell should I have to choose, anyway? Why can't I have both, Gus? It's not fair. Why can't I remember what I want to remember and forget everything else?"

"You don't have to choose," Gus told him, looking back up, his eyes meeting his friend's. "It's not one or the other, Shawn. You can love Will and still miss the hell out of Jules."

"I know."

"You're not forgetting her if you don't hate Will's birthday. And you're not remembering her if you do."

"Then what the hell am I supposed to do?" Shawn asked, sighing, running his fingers through his hair. "If I can't remember and I can't forget…what the hell am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, Shawn. I don't know what you're going to do…but right now, you're coming downstairs and having some cake," Gus smiled gently, pushing his friend towards the door.

Shawn looked back one last time at the box sitting in the middle of the floor, smiling quietly to himself as he turned out the light and followed his friend downstairs


	10. Chapter 10

_Okay, so the last chapter was supposed to be the last..._

_But then I came up with this..._

Gus stopped halfway down the stairs, turning back to Shawn.

"I think someone else is looking for you, too," he said, nodding at the landing.

Perched on the bottom stair on his knees, his hand frozen in mid-air as he stared up the steps with a look of utter determination etched across his face, was Will.

The moment he saw Shawn, his face lit up.

"Daaa!" he cried, reaching up with both arms.

"Looks like we had the same idea," Shawn smiled, reaching the bottom step and scooping his son up in his arms. "How'd you break away, Kid? Grandpa's eagle-eye must be slipping…we may have to demote him to pigeon-eye."

Will gurgled as he wrapped his pudgy arms around Shawn's neck. As he did, Shawn felt something cool and metallic scrape against his flesh.

"What is that?" he asked, trying to pry the object out of his son's stubborn fingers.

"Daa!" Will argued, not wanting to release it, though Shawn quickly worked it free.

He took one look at it, then back at Will, who was blinking up at him innocently, then burst out laughing.

"What is it?" Gus asked, turning around in the doorway.

Shawn held it up so his friend could see. "It's Lassie's badge," he grinned, looking back at his son. "Where did you get this?"

Will's eyes flashed mischievously, but his lips clamped shut.

Clearly, he wasn't about to reveal his secret to anyone…not even his father. His eyes narrowed defiantly and his eyebrows slanted downward as he reached for it again.

"Daa!"

"Will, it's not yours," Shawn told him gently, pulling it out of his reach. "It's Lassie's…he's probably going crazy looking for it."

He stopped, suddenly breaking out into a wide grin, which was returned in perfect miniature by his son. "Okay…" he admitted, gently rumpling the mop of blonde hair on top of Will's head. "It's funny….but it's still not yours. You can't have Lassie's badge."

"Daaa!" Will insisted, his eyes not leaving Shawn as his small hand stealthily moved toward the shiny object one more time.

"No." Shawn told him firmly, pulling it back again.

Gus rolled his eyes, calling over his shoulder as he walked back into the kitchen. "You keep fighting with a baby, Shawn. I'm having some cake."

Once they were alone, Shawn sighed, looking into his son's eyes.

"You do know you don't have to be a cop, right?" he murmured. "It's not a foregone conclusion that Spencer men have to be cops, no matter what Grandpa tells you."

Will gurgled. Shawn smiled and slowly sat on the bottom step, gently bouncing Will on his knee.

"Oh, he'll huff and puff and blow your house down about it for a while," he continued, his fingers playing with the curl of hair resting at the nape of Will's neck. "But he'll get over it…eventually. Once you marry a cop, he'll get over it. Being married to a cop is almost as good as being one."

Will rocked back, looking up at his father attentively, trying to understand what he was saying.

Shawn sighed. "You really want the badge, don't you?" he asked.

Will cocked his head to the side, squeezing his hands together emphatically. "Daaa!"

Shawn looked around, confirming that the coast was clear. He put Lassie's badge on the step next to him and reached into his pocket, pulling out another worn, faded badge that was almost identical. The emblem in the center had been rubbed nearly off, but there was still the faint remnant of a raised line in the shape of a building with a sun's rays behind it.

"You can't have Lassie's badge," Shawn murmured. "But you can have this one if you want." He handed it to his son, who looked down at it curiously, then back up at his father.

"It's your mom's," Shawn explained. "I've been holding onto it…but I think it's your turn to hold it, Kid. You won't understand now…but if you hold on to it, I'll explain it all someday."

He smiled palely and stood back up. Will clutched the badge in both hands, immediately putting it in his mouth and sucking on it happily.

"I'll explain it all…" Shawn murmured, walking towards the kitchen, where he could already hear the sounds of the birthday party. "Just as soon as I understand…"


End file.
